Chocolate Mood Therapy
by M. D. Jensen
Summary: Amita and some ice cream give Larry romantic advice. 1 year after season 1. CharlieAmita, LarryLaurel. Utter fluff.


Disclaimer: I do not own Numb3rs. Nor do I own Ben and Jerry's ice cream (probably a good thing, for the sake of my thighs! )

Summary: Pure fluff! Amita and a pint of Ben and Jerry's help Larry through a tough spot in his relationship with Laurel. LL, CA, AL friendship. Set one year after season one.

Note: I liked this a lot better when I first wrote it. Actually, it's a bit embarrassing, really, but it took so long to type up that I can't not post it.

_Chocolate Mood Therapy_

At the sound of footsteps, Amita Ramanujan looked up from the physics textbook on the library table in front of her. Her heart's rhythm increased; had he come back to apologize already? Then the presence in the doorway registered and she tried not to let her face fall. It wasn't her boyfriend Charlie after all, but Larry Fleinhardt, one of the professors in the physics department.

"Hey, Larry," she said, trying to sound personable. "Looking for something?" It was a library, after all. And Amita was desperate for any sort of small talk to distract her from the minor crisis at hand.

Larry also seemed ill at ease; he was fidgeting, more than usual. "Oh. Hello, Amita. Some_one_, actually. Have you seen Charles?"

"He's working on something for Don," Amita replied. It was half of the truth; Charlie was indeed running some numbers for the FBI at the moment, but they weren't needed for a week yet. The more honest answer was that he was avoiding her.

"Oh." Larry's sad-puppy look, if possible, increased.

"Could I help you with something?" Amita offered.

"No, thank you, Amita." Larry replied. But as he spoke he leaned absently against a bookcase, showing no intention of leaving.

_Crap_, Amita thought._ He's going to ask me what happened with Charlie, isn't he? _She made sure the conversation topic didn't stray. "I'm not busy. I could run any equations you need," Amita suggested.

Larry started at Amita's voice, as though he'd forgotten her presence. "No, thank you again, but it's more of a… male issue."

Amita tried not to snort with laughter. Larry couldn't have meant it the way it sounded, of course, but it sounded funny nonetheless. At least he wasn't here to get on her case, she realized.

"Romantic trouble?" Amita sympathized. Larry said nothing, which just served to confirm her suspicions. "Charlie's not one to go to for that," she advised, trying to keep her tone light. At the same time, though, she felt the smile fade from her face.

"I suppose he's better at it than I am," Larry mourned.

"I wouldn't say that."

"Oh," Larry said slowly, realizing. "Had a fight, did you? Charles did seem rather brooding this morning--- moreso than usual, I mean. I won't trouble you, then." He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Amita called. Larry spun back, and she waved her hand, gesturing for him to take a seat at the two-person table with her. "Come. Sit. Talk."

Larry didn't need to be told twice. He sulked over and slumped into the chair opposite hers, steepling his fingers and partially hiding his face with them. "Misery does love company, I suppose," he commented. His voice was muffled by his hands.

"You're a welcome distraction, Larry," Amita assured. "What happened to you?"

Larry waved her off. "I don't want to unload on someone with troubles of their own."

"We've all got troubles of our own," Amita countered. "Spill."

"Ah. Well. Laurel and I had a bit of a disagreement this morning." Amita thought of Laurel Wilson, the lively, amiable professor of the philosophy of science, and couldn't imagine her disagreeing with anyone, ever.

"What about?"

Larry shrugged miserably, lowering his hands from his face to allow clearer speech. "We were discussing the nature of the universe… the big mysteries, etcetera. We've similar viewpoints but today I went so far as to generalize all members of the clergy as ignorant of science. Laurel's brother John is a priest." Larry cringed at the memory of the conversation. "How was I supposed to remember that? She has four brothers!"

Amita shook her head and laughed, once humorlessly. Reaching across the table, she patted the professor's hand in sympathy. "You know, most couples fight because the guy forgets the anniversary, Larry, not because they get too passionate discussing philosophy."

Larry offered a weak smile. "I checked to see if that was the underlying issue; it's not. Our one-year anniversary isn't for three weeks. So. What did you and Charles fight about?"

Blushing, Amita let her head fall to rest on the table dramatically. "He forgot our anniversary," she admitted, muffling her voice in the crook of her arm. "He asked me out for the first time six months ago yesterday. I called him on it this morning, and I guess it got a little out of hand." _You never pay attention to me, Charlie, it's always your equations… your little affair with your chalkboard…._

Then Amita raised her head, smiling. 'Affair with your chalkboard'? Come to think of it, it hadn't been that serious after all. "But it's not important, really," she amended. "I'm not angry, and he's more embarrassed than anything else. Tonight he'll call and we'll make up." Saying it was reassuring. Amita sat back in her chair, relieved.

On the other hand, though, it seemed to make Larry all the more dejected. "That's good." he slouched down even more, until his chin was literally touching his chest.

Amita pressed her lips together with concern. "Buy Laurel some flowers, Larry. She'll get over it soon."

Larry shook his head. "That's just the thing, Amita. I don't think she will. We've been, well, disagreeing more and more over the last few months. This was just the straw that broke the proverbial ol' camel's back." He looked away, playing with one shirttail of his blue-and-green checkered button-down. "I'm honestly worried that this would have been, well… 'it'." He gave up on his shirt and scratched his head absently.

Amita sighed, scanning her friend critically; he looked terrible. She made her decision. "Larry, has anyone ever told you that you handle heartache like a woman?"

Despite himself, Larry grunted in half-laughter at the utterly random comment. "No, Amita, people have said a lot of things about me, but never that particular thing. Since it's coming from a woman, might I assume that it's a compliment?"

"An observation," Amita corrected. "Most men would go and get drunk after a lovers' spat."

"I don't drink," Larry said tonelessly.

"Exactly. Instead you go to commiserate with your friends. It's something a girl would do. I think it makes you worthy to learn one of the greatest secrets of womankind."

"Will you have to kill me afterwards?" Larry asked gloomily.

Amita pushed her chair back from the table and stood. "Not if you promise to keep quiet about it."

Soberly, Larry raised a hand and pressed it against the left side of his chest. "Always."

Smiling, Amita went to the refrigerator in the corner and pulled it open. She pushed aside various TV dinners in the freezer section before she found what she was looking for: half a dozen paper bags hidden in the back. She took two, removed their contents, threw the bags in the trash and closed the fridge door. She could feel Larry watching her curiously as she took two spoons from the silverware pile and returned to the table.

"Chocolate Mood Therapy," she said, seriously, "of Karmel Sutra?"

"What?" Larry sat up straighter, looking confused. Amita handed him the pint of chocolate ice cream and a spoon, then sat and opened the top of hers. "You just keep these on hand?"

"Me and some other grad students, yeah." She took a bite and talked around it. "Heartache can strike anywhere, anytime."

"I'll eat to that," Larry agreed. But he didn't touch his.

"It will help," Amita told him. "Temporary release of endorphins, same as getting drunk. Sort of."

"Ah." Larry nodded. Now he was drawing patterns on the ice cream's surface with his spoon.

Amita put hers down. "I swear it helps," she told him.

Larry looked up and gave her a small but genuine smile. "I'm sure it does for the small things, Amita. But the fact of the matter is, this is a little too big for Ben and Jerry to cure."

"Ah," Amita said, knowingly. "The statistical curve of depressive ice cream consumption."

"There's a math to this?" Larry asked incredulously.

"Don't you listen to Charlie?" Amita scolded. "There's a math to everything! See, as the level of heartache increases-" she drew an acclivity in the air with her spoon- "so does the rate at which you eat the ice cream. Then there's a point where it gets worse…" her spoon dropped through the air, "and you begin to eat less. I, for example, am not too bad off, so I'm thinking more about my dress size. You, on the other hand, seem to be on the other side of the curve. The too depressed to eat side." Amita stopped short. Somewhere in that explanation she'd forgotten exactly how that speech was supposed to cheer Larry up. She winced and looked over at him. "Am I right?"

"Yes."

Amita sighed. "I wish I weren't. Are you sure you don't want a little? I feel stupid eating alone."

"I get brain freeze," Larry protested quietly. Amita fought the urge to give up.

"Hey, maybe it's not as bad as it seems."

Larry raised his eyebrows but echoed, "maybe." He didn't sound convinced, though.

Amita sighed. "Look, Larry, if you want some real advice…" Amita put down her spoon and leaned forward seriously. "Be honest with her. Tell her you're sorry and that it was an honest mistake. Don't take back what you said, or you'll sound insincere. Just apologize for it. Maybe bring her flowers, too."

"Maybe I should bring her ice cream," he commented wryly.

"Yeah." Amita smiled. "That works too. But really, just apologize, and say it nicely. Actually, how are you with poetry?"

Larry snorted. "Seriously? Absolutely terrible."

"That's all right," Amita assured him. "Just be honest, then. Make sure you tell her how much you love her. You do love her, right?" What had started with some hiking and some spontaneous rendezvous seemed to have turned into the genuine article for Larry and Laurel over the past year, but it was best to check first.

Larry answered slowly, as though realizing it for himself at that very moment. "I don't know. I think so. She is… beautiful. Intelligent. Lively." His eyes grew wistful. Amita poised herself to reach across the table and comfort him should be begin to cry. "Being with her seems to validate life, somehow. Make it worthwhile, cosmically speaking. Yes," he said, slowly, softly. "I do love her."

"Larry…" Amita said quietly. "You have told her that, haven't you?"

Larry's eyes dimmed slightly. "I'm afraid I've been waiting for the right time. And the right time just hasn't happened yet."

"Oh, my God, Larry!" Amita smiled unbelievingly, reaching out and taking Larry by the hand for emphasis. "You need to tell her! You need to go find her and tell her right now!"

"Don't you think this is a rather inopportune time to?" He mumbled back, looking panicked.

"No! No, I think this is a wonderful time to! I think you should go right now and…"

"Ahem." A third voice joined the conversation. "Amita?"

"Not now, Charlie," Amita dismissed impatiently. "Can't you see we're… Charlie?" She realized, and looked up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway was Charlie Eppes, a bouquet of flowers poorly hidden behind his back. He brought them forward now and offered them to her with shaking hands and an equally nervous smile. "Uh… these are… for you."

Amita gazed, open-mouthed at Charlie, then looked back at Larry.

Larry smiled weakly. "Go. I'm fine. I have womankind's greatest secret," he reminded her.

"Are you positive?" Amita whispered.

His smile was unwavering. "Yes."

Amita stood and fled to Charlie in rapid steps, throwing her arms around him and squeezing. Charlie returned the embrace one-handed, holding the other arm out awkwardly to save the flowers. "Oh!" Amita giggled and pulled back. "Sorry." All thoughts of Larry were gone from her head.

Grinning lopsidedly, Charlie proffered the flowers once again. "No, I'm sorry, Amita. I got… caught up…"

"I know." She leaned forward over the flowers, kissed him lightly, then took the bouquet from him. It wasn't roses, but it would do.

"We can go to dinner tonight, too," she heard Charlie say.

That brought Amita crashing back down to Earth. "Actually, I… well…" she looked at him meaningfully, trying to convey the message without words. _Larry's in a bit of a crisis right now, and I think we're needed here. _She jerked her head backward at the physics professor who she knew was currently doing his best to ignore them.

"Is something wrong?" Charlie mouthed.

Amita leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "He and Laurel had a fight. It's pretty serious." She pulled back to look at Charlie, who was frowning sympathetically.

"Oh. Actually, that reminds me…" he raised his voice to be heard by all. "Hey, Larry!"

"Eh?" Larry turned around in his chair to face the couple. "Hello, Charlie."

"Professor Wilson was looking for you."

"Was she really?" Larry and Amita spoke at the same time, although Amita's was a tactful whisper and Larry's a desperate yelp.

"Yeah, actually." Charlie looked briefly down at Amita to assure her that it was indeed true. "I ran into her on the way here."

"Did she look angry?"

"No," Charlie answered sincerely. "She looked as depressed as you do."

"I made a mistake, Charles," Larry confided. He slid his chair out to face them more comfortably. "Well, as I was telling Amita… it's really more a long series of mistakes."

"I don't know, Larry," Charlie said gently. "Seemed to me she misses you already."

Larry stood hesitantly, as if this were too much to hope for. "Did she say anything else?"

Charlie shook his head. "Only that she was looking for you," he replied honestly, then hastily added, "You had to read between the lines, of course."

"Yes…" Larry mused. Then he seemed to freeze on the spot.

Amita handed the flowers back to Charlie and broke reluctantly away from him. Going to Larry, she put an arm supportively around her professor's shoulder. "Go find her, Larry. You remember what I said, right?"

He nodded. "Right. I can't wait for the right time. I have to tell her… tonight. That I love her."

"Perfect." Amita smiled.

Larry kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Thank you, Amita."

"No problem."

"Call me tonight and tell me how it went," Charlie said from the doorway. "Or call me tomorrow, if it's more convenient," he added devilishly.

Larry shook his head, fighting a grin. With a final glance at Amita, he walked past Charlie and through the doorway.

Charlie watched the retreating form, then gazed back at Amita. "Do I tell you that I love you enough?" He wondered, honestly.

Amita smiled shyly. "You've never told me that, Charlie."

He looked genuinely surprised. "I haven't?"

"No."

"I've meant to."

"Have you?" She went to the doorway, wrapped her arms around his waist and smiled pensively at him. "Do you love me, then?"

Charlie flushed like a schoolboy, shifting the flowers clumsily. Amita thought it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. "I… well…" he stammered.

Amita grinned, brushing a kiss on his lips. "I love you, Charlie."

Charlie smiled back, visibly relaxed. "I love you too."

_Fin_

Uh… sorry if you feel like you just wasted ten minutes of your life! Yes, there will be an update on Paranormal soon. And also, my parents are college professors; I've been in their department lounges and there is indeed such a thing as a library with a fridge in the corner. FYI. ;)


End file.
